


Ferrous Compounds and Fragrant Collections

by Adohug



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: "oh it's sorta about Lena", Gen, Other, This was rambling, and here we are, then I realized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-17 00:39:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14176800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adohug/pseuds/Adohug
Summary: How long have you been sitting there? It doesn't matter; she's still going on, and you're hearing nothing coming out of her mouth.ORA ramble about staring at your friend as she rambles.I'm gonna be that guy and go "it's my first fic, have mercy on me" while also saying "I would actually love for you to rip this fix to pieces in the comments so I know how to improve my writing, you have my permission. Ruin me."





	Ferrous Compounds and Fragrant Collections

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a short story I wrote for English that I later realized was about Lena Luthor. It's shit, and a little rambly, but I like it and thought I'd share with the world. Enjoy.

There are words being spoken, you're sure of it. They're winding out of her mouth, trickling into sentences, forming the concepts of her thoughts with more ease than a pilot disembarking from their craft. The words are coming from her, you know, because you can see the way these ideas affect her, the way her usual cold steel eyes warm and soften, lighting up with newfound enthusiasm for whatever is it she’s talking about. She must be invested, because her eyes stand out from the bags under them, making her sharp face look even more angular. You know she’s talking, you know she loves what she’s talking about, but you don't know what she’s saying. You hear every word coming out of her mouth, yet you listen to none of them.She thinks you're listening, because you’re staring at her with such rapt attention, eyes fixated on her mouth. On her lips. 

They look soft, and warm, and they’re red today, red like a rose, like the scent that lingers whenever she’s around. It's sweet, and light, and makes you sneeze a little when you first smell it; you imagine it must be a part of her, for no matter what she’s wearing, whether sweatpants and a t-shirt or dressed to the nines, that sweetness that you're oh so intoxicated with is there, waiting to fill up your lungs.

You return to the moment, to those lips painted with a color that could only inspire flowers being named after them, and they're moving; she’s trying to tell you about something, dammit, so you drag your eyes up her face, passing the curve of her china doll nose, barely noticing the angular cheekbones on either side, and return to the warmth, to the fire of her eyes. You can see the emotions flitting through her brain through the flames of enthusiasm in those discs of steel, and you try and make your ears work, but all you can think of are those lips moving only a few inches from those warm, inviting eyes, bringing meaning to the emotions moving in those eyes, using rose red lips in some activity you don't care for at the moment.

You'd like those lips to keep moving, but not against air. You'd rather have that rose-red lipstick smudged, across her skin, across your lips. Her eyes are aglow, but you'd rather have them closed as she tastes your lips, pale pink compared to hers, for the first time. Those eyes pull you in, but her lips, seeming to find no way of stopping, her lips trap you in a world of rathers and flowers and soft steel.

But you sit there, smiling, hearing but not listening, oscillating between the bright, warm gray and the rose red.

**Author's Note:**

> And there it is. Please feel welcome to comment anything you find abhorrent or could be improved. And in fear of sounding like a YouTuber, please leave kudos if you felt like this fic deserved it. Enjoy the other, better-written stories on this site, ya nerds.


End file.
